


The Smallest Possible Body Count

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 16:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12685242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: It starts with a bomb. An explosion and a realization follow. Jack’s POV. (Unbeta'd)





	The Smallest Possible Body Count

The whole thing starts with a bomb and ends with an explosion.

But maybe not. Maybe it starts with the bomb, followed by the explosion, but it ends with Mac thrown out of a second-floor window by the blast.

Or maybe it all starts with the bomber - but that guy’s not important anymore because Cage caught him and pummeled him black and blue while Jack was dialing 9-1-1, his free hand hovering over Mac’s chest, too afraid to touch, too afraid of hurting Mac even more.

Or… maybe it  _does_ start with the bomber but the rest is just the middle of this story that concludes in a hospital a week later, after days and days that Jack spends slumped in a chair next to Mac’s bed while Mac’s breathing through a tube, cut and bruised and broken, on the day that Mac finally opens his eyes, bleary and disoriented, and Jack’s there, yes, he is, and he squeezes Mac’s fingers gently and swallowing tears of relief, whispers, “Hey, kid.”

But then, maybe this story starts with the bomber but ends with  _The Talk_ two weeks after the explosion that almost kills Jack’s charge and his best friend, the boy wonder he’s been responsible for these past ten years, because once he’s sure that Mac will live, that he’ll be okay, that no permanent damage was done to that genius noggin of his or to any other part of the kid’s body -  _The Anger_ sets in…

Because Jack is angry. He’s furious with the bomber who tried to take out a hospital - a  _hospital_ , of all places! - to make a name for himself. But he’s also furious with Mac and that’s a novel feeling for him, he doesn’t know what to do with it. Because over the last ten years, he’s been frustrated with the kid more than once, sure, annoyed, certainly, maybe even irritated, but he’s never been truly  _angry_. Until now.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll leave Mac alone, unguarded. He remembers damn well what happened the last time he did leave Mac alone after a fight - that psycho Murdoc took him and they were damn lucky he did not just slash Mac’s throat. So no, angry he might be but he’ll still stick to the kid like glue.

And so Jack’s still sitting there, two weeks after the explosion, in the same chair, in the same spot, by Mac’s bed, he’s staring out of the window and he’s keeping his trap shut because if he opens it, he’ll definitely say something that needs to be said, true, but not until Jack won’t feel like he’s kicking the guy when he’s already down.

But then…

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mac points out in a slightly raspy voice. He’s sitting up in his bed, leaning back against a small mountain of pillows and he still looks like, well, like a guy who got blasted out of a second-floor window.

Jack just  _hmms_ but he can feel his anger spike.

“Jack?” Mac tries again. “Hey, talk to me, man.”

Well, obviously, they’ll be having  _The Talk_ now, courtesy of Angus MacGyver’s tenacity.

Slowly, Jack turns towards his friend and he sits forward, elbows propped up on his knees, hands hanging down between his spread legs. And in a quiet, furious voice he says, “If you ever,  _ever_ do something like that again, buddy, I swear to God I’ll throttle you.”

Mac blinks at him in confusion. “What–?”

“That explosion, that blast,” Jack grits through clenched teeth. “You directed it your way on purpose, didn’t you? Because I might not be a certified genius like you but I’m  _not dumb_ , pal!”

Mac stares at him for a very long moment. He just stares, looking battered and bruised but not at all apologetic or flustered. His look is firm, unwavering. And then he gives Jack an honest answer, of course he does.

“Yes, I did,” he says softly. “Because I had no choice, Jack. I couldn’t disarm the bomb and I couldn’t move it. And there were only two directions the blast could’ve gone in that narrow hallway without doing some serious structural damage to the building: either your way or my way. Your way meant inwards and that also meant a bigger risk of people getting hurt. My way meant outwards, a much smaller risk of anyone dying.”

“Except for you!” Jack hisses, positively livid now. “You  _are_ someone, too, kid!”

Mac sighs. “Jack, if you looked at it logically–”

“ _Fuck logic_!” Jack roars so loud that a nurse peeks into the room and glares at him but he doesn’t pay her any mind. Still, he does lower his voice. “Take your logic and  _shove_ it! I thought it would be enough if I protected you from the bad guys but it seems that I need to make sure you don’t off yourself, too?”

Sighing again, Mac rubs his forehead, hissing when he hits a sore spot. He drops his hand and looks at Jack again. “I  _wasn’t_ trying to kill myself. I simply calculated the risks and then chose the option with the smallest possible body count. Because that’s what I do, that’s what I’m being paid for! That’s my  _job_!”

“And  _my_ job is to keep you safe,” Jack snaps. “I need to know that, when you play with your…  _physics_ , when you’re out there, finding solutions to unsolvable problems, that you do not count yourself as an acceptable loss.

“Do you  _get_ that, Mac?” he asks and he leans even closer. “Because I’m  _not_ smart enough to really understand what you’re building or-or even talking about most of the time–”

“Jack–” Mac tries to protest.

But Jack won’t let him interrupt. “It is so, don’t try to deny it. I’m a soldier and a damn good one! But I’m no scientist, I don’t have your smarts or your imagination. That’s why, when you come up with a solution, when you say that it’s so-n-so, that it’ll work…” He pauses for a moment before he continues more quietly, imploringly, “I need to be able to  _trust_ you, do you get that? When you say something will help, I need to know you mean it’ll  _help_ , not that it’ll help, sure, but it’ll  _kill_ you in the process!”

“Jack,” Mac says with a small smile, “I usually  _do_ tell you that. Or did you forget the number of times I added, ‘or we might die a horrible death?’”

“You said it, kid:  _we_ ,” Jack points out. “You tell me when it’s  _us_ in the blast zone. But how many times did you tell me something was safe when it was just you in danger and I believed you and left you there, thinking no harm would come to you?”

Mac opens his mouth and then closes it again, looking away.

“Yeah,” Jack whispers. “I didn’t realize it until now. You told me you figured out how to save those people there,  _everyone_. You looked me in the eye when you were saying it. And the next thing I know, you’re being blown out of the window. Did you even think, for one moment, what I would–” His voice breaks and he rubs his face hard.

“I’m sorry,” Mac says softly. “But I really  _didn’t_ see any other option, Jack.”

“I’m not saying there was one!” Jack snaps. And there probably wasn’t if Mac, the boy genius, couldn’t find one, and that’s stoking his - probably more than a little irrational - anger even more. He takes a deep breath and lets it out again. “Just… don’t lie to me, alright?  _Ever again_. Because I  _need_ to know I can trust what you say. I need to know it to be able to do my job properly - and for the peace of my mind, too.”

Mac stares at him for a while, then he nods. “Alright. I promise I’ll never lie to you again like that, okay?”

Jack stares at him for a while, too, searching Mac’s face, his eyes, gauging his sincerity. Then he sighs and nods. “Okay, fine. I believe you. Please, don’t make me regret it. If you-if you died on me, I could never live with it, Mac. So, please,  _don’t_.”

With a small, slightly painful smile Mac says, “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” Jack replies with a firm nod.

“You won’t leave my side the next couple of mission, will you?” Mac guesses, narrowing his eyes a little.

“The next few  _months_ , at the very least, buddy,” Jack corrects him lightly, feeling more relaxed now that he extracted that promise from his friend. Because Mac’s nothing if not honest when it comes to things like keeping his word. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

Mac closes his eyes and drops his head onto his pillows. “Good God…”

“Yeah, that guy better watch out for you, too,” Jack comments, sprawling in his chair. “Maybe I should ask Him for help, what do you think? Do you know any prayers? They could come handy, knowing you…”


End file.
